A Captive Maiden 
in Damascus 



BY 

John Rea 



A Drama in Five Acts 




Published by 
WHITAKER & RAY-WIGGIN CO. 

Price 25 Gents 



A 

Captive Maiden in 
Damascus 

A Drama in Five Acts 



BY 

JOHN REA 

Author of The Pet Dove." 



Copyright 1915 
WHITAKER & RAY-WIGGIN CO. 




SAN FRANCISCO 
WfiTTAKKR & RAY-WrG(^lX Co. 



^^A Captive Maiden in Damascus.'^ 



Synopsis 



Naaman, leader of the armies of Syria, a man of noble 
character, has concealed from every one except Eliezer, 
his steward, the fact that he has been stricken with 
"white leprosy", a malignant and incurable disease. 

On his return from a campaign, during which the spot 
on his arm has spread alarmingly, his wife and daughters 
are eagerly awaiting his home coming; but he delays 
going to his house while despairingly seeking relief at the 
many shrines of Rimmon in the city. 

The King, aware only that his favorite is in deep 
trouble, endeavors to lighten Naaman's burden by royal 
favors, but without avail. At length a meeting with his 
family becomes inevitable. Naaman reveals his trouble, 
but, unable to remain in the presence of those he loves 
so dearly, leaves them plunged in the deepest distress. 

In this extremity, Rachel, a captive Jewish maiden, 
whom the warrior has presented to his wife, having, some 
time before, discovered her master's dread secret, makes 
known her earnest wish that he Avould go to the Prophet 
in Samaria, confident that Elisha can heal him of his 
leprosy. 

The succeeding .events reveal the deep impression made 
upon the hou-^ehold by Rachel's unquestioning faith. 

Naaman visits the Prophet and in due time returns, 
entirely restored to health. An altar is erected and 
dedicated to Jehovah and the story ends as Naaman is 
receiving the ardent congratulations of his friends upon 
his wonderful recovery. 

The play is based upon the record found in 2nd Kings, 
Chapter V. 

TMP96-y07137 

JUN2I 1915^^,, , 

• OCI.D 41177 



A Captive Maiden in Damascus 

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 



CAST 

1L4AMAN, Captain of the army of Ben-Hadad, King of 
Syria. 

BARDA, Wife of Naaman. 

RIMMONA and RIFKA, Their daughters; 15 and 10. 

RACHEL, A captive maiden of Israel; about 15. 

ELIEZER, Naaman's Steward; a young man. 

CHANINA, Steward of Ben-Hadad; an elderly man. 

CHESIL, The Court Jester; a young man. 

ZAELI, The Court Story-Teller; a man of middle-age. 

ABANA, The Court Singer, a young lady; low voice. 

KATANE, TORRA, ORMA and BERDE, Court Dancers; 
beautiful young children. 
Two unnamed Syrian women. 
Two or three unnamed women musicians. 

Place— The House of Naaman in Damascus 

Time— About 900 B. C. 
BEN-HADAD, King of Syria, in Damascus. 
JEHORAM, King of Israel, in Samaria. 
ELISHA, Prophet of Israel, in Samaria. 
RIMMON, The Deity worshiped in Damascus. 

Costumes 

Same as those used at present among tlie higher classes 
in Persia and other Eastern counti-ies. The girls wear 
short jackets of bright colored materials, short, flowing 
skirts with wide girdles and loose trousers gathered at 
the ankles. 



A Captive Maiden in Damascus, 



ORCHESTRAL PRELUDE 

ACT 1. 

(Tlie curtaiii i"ises on a room off tlie central court of the 
hour-e of Naarnan. A low, wide dais around its three clos- 
ed sides; luxuriously furnished with rugs and cushions in 
keeping with the general color scheme. No furniture except 
vases for flowers and a tall taboret having a raised mar- 
gin, the latter in I'eality a house-altar of Rimmon, the 
deity worshipped in Damascus, at present used as a 
flower stand. Rimmona and Rifka busily engaged in 
ananging floral pieces around the room, stopping now 
and then to admire their work.) 

RIFKA— Oh sistei', how beautiful the flowers are to- 
day ! 

RIMMONA— They aie indeed lovely, Rifka; which of 
them dost thou admire the most? 

RIFKA — Oh, the i)omegranates always. Thou art a 
*l)omegranate' by name,— and then, it is father's favorite 
floAver. 

Oh how I wish he were at home again. 

RIMMONA— So indeed do 1. But if I were a man I 
believe I would be a soldier like father; only I wouldn't 
want to go to ^\av and fight. What wouldst thou choose 
to be? 

RIFKA— I am not suic; but I don't believe I would 
want to be a man. I'd lather be one of the King's 
Dancers. Think what a perfectly lovely time they have. 
Almost eveiy day good old Chanina and his wife take 
them to the "Place of the Meeting of the Waters," or tht 
"Enchanted Gardens," or of an evening to the "Citadel." 
And I do just love to dance! 

(Rifka, hunnning a tune, dances a pretty step; Rim- 
mona still working among the flowers, pausing now and 
then to watch and admiie her sister: smiling all the 

'''"'■' JUN2II9I5 



A CAPTIVI-: MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 5 

RIMMONA — I believe mother is becoming more anxious 
about father every day. Why do people have to fight 
all the time? I can't imagine father killing anybody or 
cutting anybody in two with that big sword, canst thou? 

RIFKA— I don't believe he does. I think he has the 
soldiers do it for him Avhile he looks the other way. 
He's too tender hearted to hurt anything himself. 

(Barda enters, smiling. Girls embrace her alTectionately, 
while she goes about, admiring the decorations.) 

BARDA— Ah, I see my little artists have been at work 
again. What beautiful pomegranates, Rifka. They are 
thy father's favorite flower. And here are violets and 
roses and myrtle and eglantine; and is this the little 
one thy father loves to call "Stop and look"? 

RIMMONA— Yea, and I call Rifka by that name very 
often. I can't help it, for it seems to suit her so per- 
fectly. 

It doesn't seem possible that father can be kept away 
very much longe]-, so Rifka and I have agreed to arrange 
the flowers every day, just as though we really expected 
him any minute. 

Wouldn't it be lovely if he weie to come in and surprise 
us! Oh, mother, just think! 

BARDA— (aside). Four long months! And the run- 
ners bring only vague rumors of 'success,' whatever thai 
may mean. My heart is weary of these continual delays 
and uncertainties. 

(Sound of trumpet outside and cries, as of excited 
people.) 

BARDA— Listen, children! Listen! Oh, I Avonder if 
another runner has arrived with news from the army? 

(Heavy footsteps heard outside. All stait uj) ciuickly. 
Eliezer enters hurriedly; boAvs low to all.) 

BARDA— Oh, here is Eliezer! What news, what news? 

ELIEZER— I bring the best of good tidings to the 
iiouse of Naaman. The army has returned victorious and 
is now encamped just without the City walls. 

BARDA— (Eagerly.)— And is my husband there too, 
safe and sound? 

ELIEZER — (Evasively. I Naanian has leturned with 
the army, bringing with him great honor and glory to 
the King, much spoil of war and many cai^tivi^s. The 
war is over, I hope for ever. 

BARDA— And Avhen may we have our Naaman with us 
again, good Eliezer? 



6 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

ELIEZER— (With hesitation.) That I cannot so clear- 
ly answer, good lady. He bade me bring you all his 
warmest love, but to say that he will be detained in 
camp until tomorrow, or perchance, a little later. 

BARDA— (Disappointed.) Oh, what could possibly de- 
tain him now? It is not like him to allow- the least delay; 
and w^e are so eager to see him at home again. 

ELIEZER— (Reluctantly.) I can only answer by giving 
you this further news. Naaman has resigned his com- 
mand in the army and, with the King's assistance, is now^ 
making arrangements for the promotion of Hazael to be 
Captain of the Host in his stead. Ben-Hadad is extreme- 
ly loth to let him go, but, for some secret reason, Naaman 
insists upon being relieved. It has occasioned wide- 
spread regret in the camp, but my master keeps his own 
counsel and not even the king knows what his motives 
are. 

BARDA— (8adly.) And so that old army word 'tomor- 
row,' comes back again to sing its unwelcome song of de- 
lay and uncertainty in our ears. Well,— it will be a com- 
fort to know that at least, he goes to war no more. 

ELIEZER— Yea, my lady. A very great comfort, unless— 

BARDA— (Startled.) "Unless!" Unless what? Art thou 
concealing something from us, Eliezer? Some ill news? 1 
beg thee not to trifle with us at a time like this. 

ELIEZER— Madam, while life, remains my unswerving 
devotion and service shall be to my master and his family. 
I know that, for some obscure reason, this campaign has 
greatly burdened the noble Captain of the Host. He is a 
soldier but he is far more a man and there have been 
many trying times for us all. 

BARDA— The Gods grant they may be really over now! 
Well, give him our dearest love, Eliezer; but, I beg of 
thee, withhold it from him that I am not wholly satis- 
fied. 

RIFKA— And, good Eliezei', give him this flower from 
his little girl, wilt thou? I was going to ask thee to take 
a kiss to him from me but, I guess I will change my mind 
and keep it safely for him until I see him myself. 

ELIEZER— Ah, even absence has its moments of re- 
ward and one of them will be Avhen he takes this pretty 
flower in his hand and learns what awaits him here at 
home. 

(Eliezer goes out. Barda looks after him questioningly. 
The girls come to her side and embrace her ardently.) 



A CAPTtVE MATDEN IN DAMASCUS 7 

RIMMONA-Oh, aren't Ave happy, mother! Let ma put a 
flower in thy hair! I wish father could come in on us 
now Isnt It splendid that he has returned safely and 
that he is not to go away again? 

nn^^b?;^"^^''^^^^'''^'.* ^^^ ^^ pleased to find us all so well 
w^l^^^^^^"!"^ ''{ ^^"^^i*y to see him? I know lots of 
|\ays to make him happy, mother. Just wait! Father and 
are the very best of friends. We are regular chums, even 
right now ^tTong. I feel as if I could eat him 

np?H?c?H.7;Jf ' '''^' '^'^'^''' ^}}*' (looking at the girls and 
petting them.) suppose you allow me to be alone here for 
a little while, I want to think about something. I don't 
nl'^^^'n^\^ '* '-' but my heart is full of a strange forebod- 
ing These unusual messages and this delay and this 
odd turn of affairs in the army all come so unexpectedly 
upon me that I am bewildered and know not what to 
tnink. 

JJ^ii'^^ ^^^^^'-^^^ ?^^J^^^^ ^^1' a^d then retire. Barda 
stands fingering the flowers on the taboret.) 

BARDA— (Alone and slowly.) Oh that word tomorrow 
tomorrow, tomorrow! 1 never hear it, when Naaman is 
away without a shiver. What does it portend this time*? 

lomorrow ?— and he has "resigned from the army,"— I 
should be happy and, yes, I am,-but I am not satisfied 

And what was that word Eliezer used? "It would be a 
comfort that Naaman went to war no more,— unless "— 
Unless what? O, I dread that word! (Shivers.) It leaves- 
a dark door open somewhere, through which a shadow 
may so easily creep in upon me. Well, I must bear it and 
wait as patiently as I can. 

(With uplifted eves and clasped hands.) 

O, Rimmon! Be merciful! 

(Here Barda takes the blossom from her hair and lavs 
It upon 1.he altar; lifts the vase of flowers from its top- 
munslsoftl -T' " ^^'^'' ^'^^' holding the vase aloft, mur- 

BARDA— O, Rimmon, All-powerful, deal gently with 
thy servant Naaman, for he has ever been faithful unto 
thee. 



Curtain 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 



ACT 2. 

(The next day. The same room, brilliantly decorated 
with fresh flowers; orientally beautiful with gorgeous 
eui'tains, cushions and rugs. Barda, Rimmona and Rifka 
arranging bouquets, as before, but far more eagei-ly.) 

RIFKA— (Skipping about joyously.) Father is coming 
today! Father is coming today! 

Father will surely come today, will he not, mother? Is 
not that what Eliezer said? 

BARDA— Eliezer only said "perhaps." AVe must be pa- 
tient, Rifka. It would make father unhappy if he 
thought we could not wait even one day longer, while he 
is busy; especially when we know he is safe in camp and 
so near home. 

RIFKA— And won't it be just splendid to have him 
here with us all the time, and no more war. Oh, I think 
that is the best of all. I wish he could see the rooms just 
as they are now. Maybe he will. Aren't they lovely, Rim- 
mona? Just look at this rose and this one, and this! 

(The girls go about, fussing with the flowers and cush- 
ions, Barda sitting on the dais, watching them, smiling. 
A rap at the door. Eli-ezer enters and bows. All rise and 
eagerly exchange salutes, as if in haste to hear him speak.) 

ELIEZER— The noble Captain of the Host sends greet- 
ings and love to you every one, but with this most re- 
gretful message. It will be impossible for him to come 
today, as he has not yet completed the Ceremonials of 
Victory in the temple of Rimmon, with the King and 
the High Priest. He wishes me further to say that, in or- 
der that he may appropriately accept certain courtesies 
of the King, he has granted Ben-Hadad the use of this 
room for tomorrow morning, when he may privately re- 
ceive a number of friends whom the King desires to send 
to him. It is a function which cannot be evaded or post- 
poned and after it is over he will meet with his family. 

But today, in order that his love may not seem to spend 
itself in mere words, he has taken pleasure in sending, in 
my care, a most charming gift to his wife and children. 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 9 

BARDA— What gift were lialf .so welcome as himself, 
Eliezer? And why this curious arrangement about the 
I'oom? I cannot understand it. 

ELIEZER— It is the King's ariangement, madam, in 
honor of Naaman's victorious return, and my master had 
no alternative but to accept it. May I now have the 
pleasure of presenting his gift to thee? 

BARDA— Thou hast brought it witli thee, then? 

ELIEZER — I wait only thy gracious permission to pre- 
sent it. 

(Barda bows in consent. Eliezer goes out and soon re- 
turns, followed by two Syrian women, leading Rachel be- 
tween them. As the women turn to go Rachel speaks to 
them in a lov»' tone.) 

RACHEL— The God of Israel reward you for all your 
kindness. Never has an hour passed, since I crossed over 
Jordan, that 1 have not blessed God for human love and 
sympathy. 

ONE OF THE WOMEN— Never will Ave forget thee, little 
sister of the hills. And we wish thee, ever, the same love 
thou hast shown to us. Farewell. 

RACHEL— FareA\ell, and may Jehovah remember you in 
peace. 

(The women retire. Rachel looks sadly after them; then 
turns and slowly kneels before Barda, her face to the 
floor, then rises and stands silent before her. Barda is 
sitting on the dais, Rimmona and Rifka close on either 
side, all looking most intently ui)on Rachel. Rachel, 
poorly clad, but sweet and dignifled, stands silent a few 
moments, then slowly lifts and holds out both her hands 
toward Barda, as if craving sympathy in her entire sur- 
I'ender of herself.) 

ELIEZER— (Pointing to Rachel.) What better gift of 
love than a life? This maiden is a captive from the far 
land of Israel, tenderly cared for by the women of our 
camp from the first day until now; and from this time 
onward she is thine, with the devoted love of Naaman. 

BARDA— (Anxiously.) But, truly. Eliezer, where is my 
lord? Art thou concealing something from me? Surely 
I am not to consider this little Jewish maiden a substi- 
tute for him I love? 

ELIEZER— (Stepi)ing away.) Oh, not a substitute, my 
lady! No gift could ever fill the place of such a giver. But, 
I beg thee, do not detain me now. I am instructed to re- 
turn at once to the camp of my master. 



10 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

BARDA— I thought the message was that he would be 
busy in the temple of Rimmon. But— let it pass. It is all 
one "if Naaman come not. There is something out of joint. 
I know not what. 

Do not let me detain thee, Eliezer, (waves him away.) 
Hasten to thy master, whether he be in camp or temple. 

(Eliezer goes out quickly. The two girls cling close to 
their mother, all still looking most intently at Rachel, 
who stands, apparently unmoved, under their searching 
scrutiny. At length Barda holds out her hand toward 
Rachel.) 

BARDxV- Poor little captive! Knowest thou what I 
say? Dost thou understand the speech of Damascus? 

RACHEL— (Bowing low and speaking softly.) It is 
not my native tongue, my lady, but I am somewhat fa- 
miliar with the Aramaic. Some of my people used to 
speak it. 

BARDA— Thy name, poor little stranger? 

RACHEL— (Very calmly.) My name is Rachel; for my 
mother. 

BARDA— And thy mother— living? 
RACHEL— Long since fallen asleep, my lady. 
BARDA— And thy father, child? 

RACHEL— I know not of him. lady, living or dead. 
Perhaps it were better he lay sleeping beside my mother. 
He is dead to me now, and, if alive, I am as good as dead 
to him. I alone am left of all my people. 

But do not look to see me Aveep, my lady, for I have no 
more tears to shed; the fountain of that solace has turn- 
ed to dust. 

BARDA- (Kindly.) Sadness is not reserved alone for 
captives, Rachel; it sometimes lurks, unseen, in the bos- 
oms of captors, else were pity and sympathy long since 
dead and buried together. 

RACHEL. (Abashed, and in a begging tone.) Bid me 
retire, I beg thee, sweet lady, I am not fitly clad for 
these surroundings. As for the rest, I have nursed my 
sorrow and now it sleeps quietly in my bosom, and, even 
waking, thou shalt never hear it fret. 

BARDA— (To Rimmona.) Here daughter, take Rachel 
with thee and deal gently with her, as thy father's gift. 
Take her to thy room and change her apparel. She is 
of about thine own age, I think. Deal with her as thou 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 11 

wouldst have her deal with thee if thou wert Rachel and 
she Rmimona. 

RACHEL— The God of Israel reward thee an hundred 
told my mistress, for thou hast spoken softly to a very 
lonely stranger, and thy tender voice moves me deenlv 
to memories of my mother. 

RIMMONA~(Cheerfully.) Wilt thou come with me 
Rachel? 

RACHEL— (Turning to go.) I seem like one that 
dreams! For, though I am a captive, I have been treated 
^V/lu ^^^"^ ^^"^"^^ ^^'^^ tender and unexpected kindness, by 
all the women of the camp and even by the men of war. 
lea, I will go with thee gladly. 

(Rimmona and Rachel go out, hand in hand.) 

OL^RFnt^f 111 Oi'tr?^' ' ^"^'^"^^ ''''' ^^^^ '' '^he 

BARDA— Yea, Rifka. But I wonder what will happen 
when thy father hears her speak of the God of Israel*? 
1 must caution her, and thou and Rimmona must teach 
her of our Gods and show her how to worship in the an- 
cient, holy places about the city, for I fear she has never 
learned religion. 

RIFKA— How shall I treat her, mother? It will be all 
so new and strange to me I know I shall feel awkward 
at first. 

BARDA— Tieat her with kindness only, Rifka. Re- 
member her heart is sore and lonely. Put thyself in her 
place and all Avill be well. 

RIFKA- If I do that we shall have a new sister at 
once, for I love her already, she has such a soft, low 
gentle voice. May I call her Rachel, mother? What a 
sweet name it is! (Kneels and begs.) And may her 
little bed lie next to mine at night, so I mav hold her 
hand when it is dark and lonely, and I get frightened at 
some queer noise out in the street? 

BARDA— (Smoothing her hair.) What dost thou know 
of darkness and loneliness, little blossom? Be careful 
thou dost not weary her with thv alYectionate ways. 
Think of her as thy father's gift and, by her, keep him 
in thy heart until he comes again. 

RIFKA— And may we take her to the Palace and the 
Enchanted Gardens and the Cascades of the Abana, and 
the Citadel, in the evening? 

BARDA— We Avill plan for many things, but first we 
must have thy father at home again. Without him all 
else will pall upon us. 



12 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

'Tliey rise. Barda tiu'iis, as if to so out. but stops 
and murmurs) : 

BARDA— O that word "tomorrow" — "tomorrow" - 
"tomorrow" ! 

(Instead of going out she pauses and watches Rimmona 
and Rachel as they enter. Rachel is clad as a young Dam- 
ascene, smiling and radiantly beautiful. Rifka jumps 
up and cries out" : 

RlFTvA— Oh. how beautiful thou ait, my new sister 
Rachel ! 

(The three smiling girls sit together on the dais, Rachel 
in the center, Barda standing near and looking on, well 
pleased.) 

RIMMONA— The very first change of raiment I triea 
fitted her perfectly, mother. And dost thou know, 
Rifka, she and 1 are just about of one age. Isn't that 
lovely? (Barda slips out.) 

RIFKA— Mother says we may plan to show thee all th» 
vronderful things in Damascus. Maybe old Chanina ana 
his wife will take us with the dancing girls, or perhaps 
Eliezer, if father can spare him. Hast thou ever been in 
Damascus, Rachel ? 

RACHEI^-Only in dreams. But I could Avish all my 
poor people were in cai>tivity if thi.s is what it means. 
Yet [ love my native land, i:)Oor and stricken though it 
be. There are many little green places and gardens in 
the low valleys and on the slopes of Hermon, but noth- 
ing like Damascus. 

RIMMONA— Tell us of thy home, Rachel, or wouldst 
thou rather wait awhile? 

RACHEL— I can tell it all now. It was near the little 
city of vSamaria, far, far away in Israel. The city is built 
upon a hill and it is quite beautiful, in its little way, 
but thou wouldst think it very small indeed. There is 
one street in it set apart entirely to the merchants of 
Damascus, and I have been among the bazaars there. 
But it is all as nothing to this. 

RIMMONA— Then thou hast seen something of Damas- 
cus? 

RACHEL— I have gone about a little Avith the women 
who had charge of me and with Eliezer, thy father's 
steward. Good man; he tried to solace me with showing 
me curious and strange things! Men have odd ways 
of trying to comfort strangers; pei'haps he thought it 
might divert me from homesickness. 



A CAPTIVE MATDEN IN DAMASCUS 13 

in_MMOi\A— There! J like him for that! It was kind 
of him to want to be a comfort. Eliezer is one of the 
kindest men I know. Father is very fond of him. I 
don't think he keeps anything a secret from him. 

RACHEL— (With sudden interest.) What for instance? 

RIMMONA- Oh, anything personal about himself, or 
the cam]), or the Couit. They are inseparable friends. 

RACHEL— (Pondering.) Will Eliezer attend with the 
King's company tomorrow, I wonder? He told me of 
their coming and I Avould ask him something. 

RIMMONA— I know not. He will be where father is, 
I am sure, but we are not permitted to be present while 
the King's messengers ai-e here. It is a Court affair, and 
very grand. Come, let us arrange the room for their 
meeting. 

RIFKA- Shall we bring in fathers gi'eat chair? 

RIMMONA— Oh yea. It will be just like a throne for 
him. Ben-Hadad may be King of Syria, but father is 
King of Love heie. 

(They all help bring in a great arm chair: busy them- 
selves rearranging the HoAvers and then, all being in 
readiness, they gather around the little taboret in a 
graceful tableau of admiration.) 

Curtain 



ACT 3. 

(The next moi-ning. The room as we left it in last 
act. Naaman, a magnificent specimen of a man and a 
warrior, sitting in the great arm chair, in full dress and 
armor, his cloak thrown over his shoulder and left arm. 
A sad and glooniy cast upon his fine face. Eliezer enters.) 

ELIEZER— My master, Chanina, the King's most hon- 
ored Steward, awaits thy pleasure. 

NAAMAN— ^Stirring himself a little.) Bring him in. 

(Eliezer and Chanina enter. Both bow low. Naaman 
rises and bows also, remaining standing.) 

CHANINA— Ben-Hadad, King of Syria, would, by me, 
do honor to Naaman, the retii-ing Cai)tain of the Host, 
in his own house, which, henceforth, becomes his citadel; 
and would bestow upon him this special mark of his 
royal favor. 

(Chanina steps forward to hand Naaman a brilliant 
necklace of gold and jewels. Naaman raises his inverted 
hand.) 



14 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

NAAMAN— Pardon. One moment! Eliezer, place a 
cushion before Chanina, upon which he may more fitting- 
ly display this magnificent token of the generous friend- 
ship of my King. 

(Eliezer places the cushion. Chanina lays the glitter- 
ing token upon it, then speaks slowly and with great 
dignity.) 

CHANINA— With this token Ben-Hadad recognizes and 
honors the invaluable services of Naaman, the retiring 
Captain, and, at the same time, regrets the secret burden 
which oppresses him, into the nature of which he does 
not now presume to inquire. 

And, that he may further do w^hat is possible, to lift 
the cloud, the shadow of which, he grieves to learn, has 
fallen upon his esteemed servant, he has sent by me 
some of his most gifted and most delightful courtiers, 
whose bright and cheerful ways have many a time re- 
lieved the weariness of his thoughts. 

Receive them, he begs, with his many good wishes and 
may they be as a kindly and effective medicine, to the 
quick recovery of thy spirits. 

NAAMAN— My lord, tell my King that Naaman grate- 
fully accepts and most highly values these tokens of his 
friendship and sympathy. But, Chanina, as between man 
and m.an, may not this suffice for the day? I am very 
weary. 

CHANINA— Offend him not, I beg thee, by declining 
to receive his messengers of good cheer. They have come 
with me. Thou knowest them every one. They are all 
thy friends. 

NAAMAN— Nay, I would not do that. The gifts and 
good wishes of a generous king are not lightly to be 
esteemed. Farewell Chanina. Let the messengers come in. 
I will receive them as I am able. 

(Chanina bows low and, escorted by Eliezer, goes out 
with great dignity. Eliezer returns immediately, gives 
the necklace to Naaman then removes the cushion and 
stands before his master.) , 

NAAMAN— (As if in pain.) How shall T escape, Eliezer? 
Must I bear this? 

ELIEZER— Master, my heart cries "NO,"— but my 
judgment quarrels with the word and thrusts an un- 
willing and rebellious "Yes" across my lips; for Ben- 
Hadad is a noble and kindly King and much depends 
upon his favor. (Entreats.) Let the messengers come in. 
It will all pass. They will come in and, they will go out 
again and there will be an end of them. 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 15 

NAAMAN— (In great agitation.) Yes. And then what, 
Eliezer? After they go— then what? 

ELIEZER— Thy family, my master. As thou lovest them 
1 entreat thee do not say them nay. But, see to it that 
they do not approach too near thee, nor offer to touch 
thee. 



NAAMAN— How can I restrain them without wounding 
them? And as for myself, I can command an army more 
easily, for I know my weakness. (A pause.) Well then. 
So be it, Thou dost ever persuade me to what I Avould 
not. Let the King's people enter. 

(Eliezer retires. Presently comes a great shout of laugh- 
ter, the rattle of a tambourine, etc., and, a moment later, 
Chesil bounces into the room, in clown's clothes, turning 
some sort of handspring, summersault or other gym- 
nastic turn and laughing uproariously. Without wait- 
ing a moment, or noticing Naaman in his great chair, he 
begins—) 



CHESIL— Well, well, well! Ha, ha, ha! What's this? 
Am I in the palace of the King or the chalice of the 
Ping, or am I drunk? Where's what, anyway? Call the 
dog. (Whistles.) Come here sir! 

(There being no response whatever, he suddenly glances 
up at Naaman; stares curiously, and instantly becomes 
silent. Then he makes a low bow, as if in mock obeisance, 
but in reality, because he wishes to conceal the fact that 
he is on the verge of fright. Naaman leans forward, looks 
at Chesil earnestly and kindly, then speaks, slowly and 
sadly.) 



NAAMAN— Knowest thou what trouble is, Chesil? Hast 
thou ever stood in darkness so dense it might be felt 
around thee? When an ill-timed word stung thee like 
the bite of an adder? Hast thou ever known the mo- 
ment when a touch of easy sympathy burnt like a live 
coal? There's not an atom of unkindness or rebuke in 
my heart for thee, Chesil, for thine is a useful and a kind- 
ly calling, to amuse and divert men in times of stress. 
Thou canst lighten the burden of grave affairs but, tell 
me this, Chesil; knowest thou an art with which to light- 
en affairs of the grave? 

Thou art a man, Chesil, a kindly, human man, and the 
bubblings of thy innocent mirth have often revealed to 
me the inward gentleness of thy nature, but now, Avhat 
thou canst feel but cannot even try to say, will help me 
more than any uttered word, for I stand upon the spot 
where human help and human hope lie dead and buried. 



16 A CAPTIVP^ MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

.Say nothing of this to any one, Cliesil. Think kindly of 
Naaman as thy steadfast friend. Let not my trouble cast 
a shadow on thy sunny pathway. 

Take a rose with thee and, as thou goest homeward, lay 
it for Naaman upon the old altar of Rimmon which 
stands by the palace gate. Farewell, Chesil, I thank thee 
for what thou wouldst have done, had I been able to 
bear it. Farewell. 

(Chesil takes a rose, covers his mouth with his hand, 
looks up at Naaman a moment in questioning wonder, 
then goes out, in absolute silence. Presently Eliezer ap- 
pears.) 

ELIEZER— Master, good Zaeli, the king's most gifted 
Htory-Teller would pay his respects to thee. 

NAAMAN— (wearily). Well, let him come in. 
(Eliezer retires and brings in Zaeli, then goes out. Naa- 
man rises and speaks cordially.) 

NAAMAN— Thou art welcome, as an old friend, Zaeli, 
and 1 am glad to know that all fares well with thee and 
thine. 

(Zaeli stands rather uneasily, as if uncertain how to ad- 
dress Naaman, then clears his throat and speaks.) 

ZAELI— All Damascus is singing thy praise, most noble 
Naaman, yet is deeply troubled for thy welfare. The 
King bade me convey to thee his good wishes and, if op- 
po]-tunity olTered, to try to lift thy thoughts from trouble 
by the lure of some far ofY scene which, like a veil, might 
gently steal between and dull the too vivid glare of days 
near at hand. 

NAAMAN— So, thou wouldst beguile my sick spirit with 
some gentle tale of love or of mystery? Zaeli, I know thy 
noble purpose, ft hath behind it the full measure of a 
good man's kindliness. 

I will listen, but, I beg thee, take it not amiss if I can- 
not hear thee to the end. Come nearer, while thou speak- 
est, that I may read in thy countenance the movings of a 
sympathy too deep for words, yet just as powerless. 

(Zaeli, surpiised, comes nearer, stands silent a moment, 
then speaks. I 

ZAELt— Would that my heart for thee might be read 
as easily as my face. Yet, Naaman, many a time have I 
made trouble drowsy with the flickering glitter of a far 
oft" vision. 

Some ancient records have lately come to light in Bag- 
dad whicli unfold a strange story of love and of the des- 
ert and of the Garden of Eden, so long believed to have 
been forever lost to man. 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 17 

In the day.s of Chiishan-Rishathaim, Kafka, Prince of 
Akerkiif, a suburb of Babylon, with his lovely daughter 
Karmian, had dallied in Damascus just long enough for 
the maiden and young Bidkar, the son of one Baldo, a 
noted sorcerer, to become atfianced lovers. 

Frightened at the prospect of impending complications, 
and in haste to be aAvay, Kafka listened to unwise coun- 
sels and, instead of following the safe old Bagdad road, 
further to the North, started homeward across the track- 
less Syrian Desert, and his caravan disappeared into the 
fierce solitudes lying just east of the Sink of the Abana,— 
even more desperate then than now. 

I'or awhile all went well but suddenly the prince found 
himself in want of water. Karmian now told her father 
that the old sorcerer had imparted to her a secret,— that 
one of the Jinn who still roam that desert, had of late 
been haunting the marshes of the Abana, until now his 
voice had acquired the sound of running water and that, 
in any time of need, if she could but hear and follow^ that 
sound she would find her way to a well. 

Crazed for a drink Karmian arose that very night and 
wandered out, alone, into the silence. The spell of the 
desert came upon her. 

She could hear the jackals hoAvling afar. Life was 
sweet, love was sweeter and she could not bear the 
thought of death. Thirst had made her hearing sharp 
as a needle's point and now, listening as for her life, she 
at last heard the sound she longed for and, full of hope, 
she quietly slipped away from the encampment, and fol- 
lowed it whither it lead. 

She had gone but an hour's walk when she became 
aware that something pale and 'silvery was moving at hei 
side and, turning, she saw, to her infinite delight, tht 
exciuisite form of a Peri, wand in hand. Almost tainting, 
Karmian told her plight. 

The gentle Peri sustained her and then offered to con- 
duct her, quickly, whither she would go; giving her, at 
the same time, a carrier dove, under whose wing the Jin- 
nee, with whom she had been in company on the marshes, 
had secretly fastened his private mark. 

The moment Kai'mian took it several strange things 
happened, her thirst left hei*. and, with it, all remem- 
brance of the encampment, and all sense of the flight of 
time. How far they wandered she never knew. 

(Here Naaman lifted his hand and Zaeli paused in hi.^ 
story. ) 



NAAMAN— But, i)ardon. Zaeli, and tell me, what think- 
est thou? I will put the matter plainly. Answer me this: 



18 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

Can the sweet, rippling song of a lark be heard 'mid 
crashing thunders? Can a tale of love, though it be 
sweet as the warblings of a nightingale, dull to forgetful- 
ness an ear in which is roaring the savage voice of somb 
on-rushing flood? Has the delicate fragrance of the little 
white rose of Hermon strength sufficient to beat back tho 
sickening stench of the dead camel on the desert? 

If thou knewest all thy voice would reek with tears and 
they would drown thy story in their bitterness, even 
though our feet were treading the very threshold of the 
gates of Paradise. 

The Gods reward thee, Zaeli, but, my thoughts have 
mutinied, and I cannot listen longer. I beg thee let me 
say farewell. 

(Zaeli stands a moment, then bows low, covers his head 
and retires alone. Naaman looks after him in gloomy 
meditation, seeing nothing. Eliezer enters, places a rug 
and an ottoman on the floor before Naaman, then goes 
out. Abana, the Court Singer, enters softly, unannounc- 
ed, carrying a guitar, sits down, arranges her draperies 
and awaits a signal from Naaman. Presently Naaman 
looks about, rises and salutes Abana with courteous 
grace, but sits down without giving any intimation of his 
wishes. Then turns to her and speaks softly.) 

NAAMAN- -Thou knowest that thou art ever welcome, 
Abana. Many a time hast thou eased my tired spirit with 
thy songs, and I would hear thee now. But first let me 
speak a word. 

This seems to me a strange perversity in human life. 
When I am happy sad songs ever seem most keenly sweet, 
but when I am sad sfweet songs become an agony unbear- 
able. I know not if this arises in the secret nature of 
music or the perverted nature of Naaman— but, so it is. 
Sing on, Abana. Try a sad refrain, if thy glad heart 
knowest any such. I know not why I ask it, nor how it 
will fall with me. 

It may strike me dumb, without a word to voice my 
helplessness, but, if I lift my hand, as thou lovest me, 
Abana, pray let thy song die there. 

(Abana sings a plaintive melody, accompanying her- 
self on the guitar. No sound comes from Naaman but 
just as the song is ending he suddenly raises his hand. 
The song dies away. Abana rises, looks up sadly at Naa- 
man, then retires, silently. 

Eliezer comes in, removes the ottoman and the rug, then 
goes out. When ail is quiet a tinkling sound is heard 
approaching, bright with the laughter and chatter of 
children, and the whispering of guitars and little bells. 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 19 

Two or three musicians enter briskly and seat them- 
selves without ceremony on the dais furthest from Naa- 
man. As they begin to play, the Royal Dancers, Katane, 
etc., clad m bright, exquisite, oriental costumes skip 
in and begin their graceful evolutions. 

Naaman watches them but, apparently, pays little at- 
tention to their lovely movements. They begin and com- 
plete their figures and then all pass out, smiling and hap- 
py, the musicians following them. After all have gone 
Naaman stirs himself and looks about upon the empty 
room.) ^ ^ 

XAAMAN--( Wearily.) Thus comes and goes the best 
that earth can offer to a troubled soul! What could I 
say? Can one speak blasphemy to flowers? Can grace 
and beauty compass the language of despair? W^ould one 
willingly smear an evil stain upon a lovely picture? 

How beautiful it was! How exquisite the innocence of 
childhood! How like to that of angels this native grace 
which, surely, would beguile me, if aught on earth could 
do It, for I love little children. Even now I seem to feel 
the bruise which came in falling from the trifling height 
to which their beauty lifted me. 

And now! What next? How dare I turn to wife and 
children, the very substance and fragrance of heaven'^ 
best balm? What if they should offer to touch me,— to 
embrace me? But— (calling) Eliezer! Eliezer! 

(Eliezer comes quickly and stands, awaiting Naaman's 
word. Naaman rises and speaks.) 

NAAMAN— Are there not others to come from the King 
Eliezer? 

ELIEZER— No, my master; they are gone. 

NAAMAN— All of them? 

ELIEZER— Yes, Master, every one. 

NAAMAN— (Shuddering.) Then, bid my wife and my 
sweet girls come in! 

(Eliezer bows. Slowly retires. From the further side of 
the room Barda, Rimmona and Rifka, clinging together 
in a frightened group enter, but advance only a few 
steps when they stop, with eyes fixed upon Naaman, who 
stands before them with folded arms and doAvncast eyes, 
as if a prisoner of fate. Barda speaks, in a low, frighten- 
ed tone.) 

BARDA— Is this, then, the victorious home-coming oi 
my beloved Naaman? Can it be reality, or am I in the 
grip of some fierce dream? 



20 A CATTIVE MAIDKN IN 13AMASCUS 

NAAMAN— (With great eft"o]-t.> Barda, beloved, I am 
thy Naaman,— yet— yet must I tell thee something fiercer 
than any dream. 

1 bear upon my body an ugly wound which must be 
healed ere ever again 1 may touch either thee or these 
sweet children. 

'Barda starts forward, staring in incredulity.) 

BARDA— A \\ound upon thy body? Oh, Naaman! 
(Naaman holds out his inverted hand, to prevent a 
nearer api)i'oach.) 

NAAMAN— Wei'e it a saber cut, dear Barda, I could per- 
haps show it to thee with pride. But as it is.— I dare not 
even speak its cursed name in thy pure presence. Only 
this T ciave, believe in my undying love. Leave me for 
awhile. There yet remains for me to hang a jewel upon 
the Holy Ti-ee and to visit the Tomb of Righteous Abel. 
And after that, if, unless, tomorrow, perhai)s,? 

Nay I cannot bear it! I^et me away! 1 seem to suffocate 
within the house! 

(Naaman throws his mantle over his shoulders and 
strides out.) 

BARDA- -Is it madness? Or, (as if in recollection.) Oh 
Rimmon! Has that small white spot, which long ago 
appeared upon his arm, taken root and struck its hide- 
ous fangs into his very reason? (agonizingly.) Oh Rim- 
mon: Rimmon! has it come to this? Canst thou not help? 

And if thei'c is no help in thee why should we adorn 
this house with tlowei-s? Come, children, take theni 
away! I cannot bear the sight of them, nor will we ever 
enter here again until -unless. Oh there it is again, that 
hideous word! Come, take them away! Take them away! 

(The bewildered gii'ls begin to remove the flowei's. 
Barda watches them and directs them in great agitation.) 

RIFKA— (plaintively.) May I not leave one little flower 
of hope, dear mother? Just one? Upon the altar? 
Please, mother. 

i Barda does not answer. Covers her face with her hands 
and goes out. Girls take away all the flowers. Rimmona, 
her hands full of blossoms, goes out silently, as one in a 
dream, dazed. 

Rifka takes a little bloom from her hair and puts it in 
a vase on the taboi'et. Kisses it lovingly, pets it, caresses 
it, looks longingly at it with clasped hands. Then slowly 
goes out, looking backward, waves her hand toward the 
flower, smiles, thi'ows a kiss to it and is gone. 

A moment later Bai'da enters, carrying in her hands a 
jewel case. Coming ])efore the altar she opens the box 
and takes from it a string of lovely i)earls, which she 
holds up as she speaks.) 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCL'S 21 

l>ARDA--() Riminon! Onec iiioie L come a suppliant. 
These I js^ive thee in saerifiee. Accept them and spare my 
husband ! 

(Kneelinjr she takes out golden trinkets, pearls, rings, 
and necklaces, laying them one hy one upon the taboret, 
saying after each gift.) 

BARDA— O Rimmon! Si)ai'e my husband and I will 
give thee all ! 

(Curtain falls upon Barda, kneeling before the altar of 
Rimmon. which she has covei'ed with jeweli-y.) 

Curtain 



ACT 4. 

(The next morning the room is seen, empty, save for 
Rifka's little flower and the glittering jewels upon the 
taboret. Naaman enters excitedly : disheveled: calls loud- 
ly.) 

NAAMAN— Eliezer! Eliezer! (Eliezer enters ciuickly.) 

ELIEZER— Here I am, my master. 

NAAMAN— It is well. Sit down a moment until I reach 
a quiet spot on this fierce road of thought. (Pause. Elie- 
zer sits down.) 

Early this morning I received a message from my wife 
and now I would learn something from thee. Come nearer! 

(Eliezer rises and stands before Naaman.) 

NAAMAN- -Kn owes t thou the servants in this house? 
ELIEZER— I do, my master, every one. 

NAAMAN— What became of that little captive maid of 
Samaria. Didst thou do with her as I directed? 

ELIEZER— Yea, my lord, and she is here now, beloved 
as if she were a daughter of the house. 

NAAMAN— What is her name, if thou dost i-emember it? 

ELIEZER— Yea, I rememb<'r it well,— but,— I love it 
better. 

NAAMAN— Let that ])ass. What is it? 
ELIEZER-LIer name is Rachel. 

NAAMAN— Bring her to me and then leave us alone 
until I call thee. 

(Eliezer goes out and presently ]'etui-ns with Rachel, 
wlio }30ws low, then kneels before Naaman. Eliezer retires.) 

RACHEL — Peace be unto thee, my master! 



22 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

NAAMAN— And peace be unto thee Rachel; but rise 
up and stand before me— I would ask thee something. 
(Rachel rises.) 

Didst thou see those people when they wont away yes- 
terday? 

RACHEL— I did, my master, every one. 

NAAMAN- What said thf^' as they were leaving? 

RACHEL— They all went sorrowing. Some said "God 
fo]bid'' and one, an old man, said "Would God I might 
lift that cloucL" 

NAAMAN— What meant he by "that cloud,"— if thou 

knowest? 

RACHEL— Nay, I could not know what he meant, but I 
know that a cloud may hide the sun. Trouble is a cloud, 
—sickness sometimes,— (she pauses and looks intently at 
Naaman)— but, O, Master, hopelessness is the blackest 
cloud of all. Perhaps that was his meaning. 

(A i)ause) 

NAAMAN— Hast thou ever been in the temple of Rim- 
mon, Rachel? 

RACHEL -Once, my master, to look on and admire. 
But not to worship. 

NAAMAN— Hast thou ever talked with my wife about 
that visit? 

RACHEL— Yea, master, many times. 

NAAMAN — Hast thou ever spoken of the God of Israel 
in her hearing? 

RACHEL— Surely, O master, thou dost not believe I 
would be ashamed to own the God of my fathers? 

(A pause) 

NAAMAN— What thinkest thou, of thyself, Rachel, con- 
cerning me? 

RACHEL— (with hesitation.) Wilt thou be angry, good 
master, if I speak plainly? 

NAAMAN— No. What wouldst thou sav? Speak plain- 
ly. 

RACHEL— (slowly). O, master! Thou art stricken with 
a malady which God alone can heal. 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 2Z 

NAAMAN— Wouldst thou fly this room if I .should 
name it? 
(Rachel speaks distinctly, but with great reluctance.) 

RACHEL— O, my master, I cannot dissemhle before 
thee,— but, — 1 know what it is! 

NAAMAN— Dost thou dare name it to me? 

RACHEL— If need be, my master, but it might scald 
my tongue. 

NAAMAN— (leaning forward and speaking with inten- 
sity). What is it? 
(A pause, then Rachel answers, agonizingly.) 

RACHEL— O, good master, must T speak it? 

NAAMAN— (rising and commanding.) Yea, I command 
thee. 

RACHEI^-Master, Master!— thou art— thou art a 
LEPER. 

(Naaman, shuddering, drops back into his chair.) 

NAAMAN— How didst thou learn of this, Rachel? 

RACHEL— (calming herself) Once, in the camp, I saw 
thee look strangely at thine arm, and then I beguiled the 
truth from Eliexer. 

NAAMAN— What else dost thou know? 

RACHEL— 1 know that thou hast tried every human 
remedy and tested every spiritual influence Avhich claim- 
ed the power of relief. Thou hast been devout at the tem- 
ple of Rimmon, thou has visited the Rivers and the Tomb 
of Righteous Abel; thou hast bestowed rich offerings 
and hung thy mantle upon the Sacred Tree; thou hast 
prayed in the Holy Gardens and bathed in the Enchant- 
ed Fountains; yet it has all been in vain, and, O master, 
had 1 dared, I Avould have told thee that from the bt- 
ginning. 

NAAMAN— And so thou despisest these ancient and 
holy things, upon which, as thou knowest, I have rested 
my hope of recovery? Is this loyalty? 

RACHEL— (protesting.) Nay, Nay, good master, I am 
loyal to thee for thou knowest that true loyalty is loy- 
alty to truth. And why should I despise God's innocent 
and beautiful world? 

(A pause, after which Naaman speaks even more ear- 
nestly.) 



24 A CAI^TIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

NAAMAN— Rachel, I have called thee here because it 
has been brought to me that, last night, after all the 
household were asleep, thou didst secretly talk with my 
wife regarding me. What hast thou to say? 

KACH EL— (after a moment's hesitation.) Listen, gooa 
master, and 1 will gladly tell thee of it all. 

I was lying awake, for my burden for thee was too 
heavy, and I could not sleep. Little Rifka w^as sleeping 
quietly beside me, holding my hand and, when I released 
it, I sat up to consider and to pray. While thus engaged 
1 heard the sound of weeping and at once I arose and fol- 
lowed until I reached the beside of my mistress. 

She saw me as I came and asked anxiously for the chil- 
dren and what l would? I knelt beside her and said: "O 
my mistress, my heart is breaking for thee and I cannot 
sleep!" 

She replied: "What wouldst thou do, a poor, little cap- 
tive?" I said: "1 would comfort thee if only I might." 

She said: "If thou hast ever seen a man rot of lepros> 
thou wouldst knoAv that my trouble lies beyond either 
comfort or relief. Even Rimmon, whom I worship, gives 
only evasive promises and never a fuifillment." 

I asked: "Has Rimmon ever been known to recover a 
man from his leprosy?" But she said: "Urge me not to 
sweep away my only hope with the black answer I must 
give thee to that question." 

I murmured: "Would that I had courage to tell thee 
what 1 believe." But she waved me away, saying it was 
no time to rebuild, with alien thoughts, the crumbling 
temple of her faith. 

"Nay," I said, "T would not attempt that, nor need L 
Faith is of the substance of the soul and never dies. It is 
the same either in truth or falsehood.." 

"Well then," she asked, "What wouldst thou?" 

I answered: "I Avould leave the temple as it is, but I 
Avould have thee enthione a God within it, and let thy 
sinking faith lay hold upon Him." 

But she ansfwered, bitterly: "What then must thou 
think of Rimmon?" I answered: "Of Rimmon; nothing! 
nothing! nothing! I would only try to All an empty 
heart with the love of a living God, for which it cries 
aloud." 

But, she said: "Of what avail to make a change?" 

I begged her not to think of it as "change." "It is but 
the filling of an empty vessel. The throne of thy heart is 
vacant and it hungers for a sovereign. O, pardon, mis- 



A CAPTIVE M.VIDRN [X DAMASCUS 



25 



tress, but 1 must ask it: Hast thou, for tliysdf, as yet 
had one atom of relief or hope or courage or sympathy 
from Rimmon? Or has thou, with all thy devotion to 
him, stayed for one moment that hideous white finger 
which is scoring earth's fiercest death upon thy hus- 
band's arm? No, nor can it, for it is powerless, more 
feeble than the gentle spirit of any little bruised and 
fragrant herb. O, believe me, mistress, Bimmon is but a 
blank, an empty delusion, a nothing, and, if no other 
help comes, my master's fate is sealed." 

"Then," she said, "There is no help!" 

"Listen," [ said, "There is a God; a God of love and pow- 
er and pity; Jehovah of Israel." 

But she turned from me saying; "80 sav they all Every 
one to his own little divinity. Who can know? Life i'^ 
too s^hort— and the curse is swift as a racing camel." Then 
she turned upon me bitterly: "Did thy Jehovah deliver 
thee m the tune of thy anguish?" 

fbol''^'" I §la^Jy. answered, "and, O, that I could show 
thee, as 1 do daily to Him, my gratitude, for thou art 
part of that deliverance. I can truly say: 'He has crown- 
ed me witn loving kindness and tender mercies.' I can- 
not reason with thy sick faith. All I can say is, I know' 
I know! 1 know! ' 

But she shook her head and was about to send me 
away when my courage came upon me again and I cried 
outj Oh tnat my master were with the prophet which is 
in Samaria, for he would recover him from his leprosy'" 
Ihen I Avent away, sorrowful. 
But noAv, O master, let me bring my plea to thee— 
(Rachel falls on her knees and begs, with clasped 

Let me entreat thee to break through every barrier of 
lu-ide and go to him. One alone can heal thee— the God 
of Ls.rael whom I worship. Thou art beyond the help 
ot man, for no man. nor angel, ever yet healed a Avhite 
leper but thou art not beyond the power and the pitv 
of Jehovah. • 

NAAMAN__Tj^(^^^ knewest me to be a white leper, Ra- 
chel, and yet thou camest in hither? Hast thou some 
talisman?. 

RACHEL—Nay, master, they are forbidden. Thou didst 
eall me and 1 came. I knew my peril well, for T have seen 
many lepers, but it is written. He will give his angels 
cnarge to keep us. So f put my fears behind me and now, 
in thy time ot need, with God's angel by my side, not even 



26 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

that angry white curse which spreads so flercely upon 
thine arm, could keep me from thee. 

But. O master, as thou lovest little Rifka and Rimmona 
and thy wife, I entreat thee delay not, O delay not, to go 
to the prophet, which is in Samaria. 

I'A pause. iNaaman rises with resolution.) 

NAAMAN— Call Eliezer, secretly and quickly. 

• Rachel lises, hurries out and returns with Eliezer.) 

NAAMAX— (with vigor.) Eliezer, go thou quickly to the 
king. Reveal to him plainly the nature of my sickness. 
(Secure from him a letter to Jehoram. Prepare a boun- 
teous reward and a body guard. Put horses to my char- 
iot that I may fulfill a secret mission to Samaria. Keep 
the whither of our going to thyself. Rachel will inform 
my family. Mow speed thee. 

(Eliezer bows and quickly retires.)) 



NAAMAN— Within this hour, Rachel, I go to Samaria. 
Jf thy God heal me not I return no more. The eastern 
desert is wide and quiet and there I shall meet my doom 
in solitude. 



RACHEIy— O master, doubt not Jehovah's power nor 
yet his kindness! Thou art far within its circle. Go 
bravely. Wait not for faith. Thy very going is of faith. 
Do whatsoever the rough but kindly old prophet may 
bid thee and thou Avilt return. 



NAAMAN— And if T do come again what may I bring 
thee, Rachel? 

RACHEL-0, good master, if thou carest for thy hand- 
maid, bring her a little handful of earth from the land 
of her fathers, that she may look upon it and hold it in 
her hands. But, faiewell. Now speed thee away and 
God be with thee. I will make all plain to those thou 
lovest so well. Hasten, master, hasten! 

(Rachel holds out both hands in entreaty that he go 
quickly. Naaman lifts his hand, as if in blessing, and 
hurries away, leaving Rachel standing Avith clasped 
hand? and uplifted eyes, as if in prayer. Then a smile 
passes over her face, in the fulness of hope, and her lips 
move in converse with heaven.) 

Curtain 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 27 



ACT 5. 

(Two weeks later. The same room unchanged. No llow- 
ers save Rifka's little one lying withered, among the 
jewels, upon the taboret. Barda, Rifka and Rimmona en- 
ter hurriedly, followed by Eliezer, in great excitement and 
speaking rapidly.) 

BARDA- -What news? What news, Eliezer? 

ELIEZER— Rejoice with me, O house of Naaman! My 
inaster has returned from Samaria perfectly healed of his 
sickness. He will be with you immediately. 

T^^t^^Ar"]^''^^*^'^^^'-^ Flowers, girls, flowers! Call 
Rachel, that we may all rejoice together. And, Eliezer 
run, bid the King's company, who were here before, to 
come hither again and make merry with us. 

(Eliezer retires as hastily as he had come. Barda the 
girls and Rachel bring in abundant flowers, place them 
joyfully and then retire. Naaman, having first met his 
family privately, enters, clad in citizen's clothes and wear- 
ing the kings decoration, his wife on his arm and the 
two girls hanging upon them lovingly. They look all 
about the room, admiring the flowers, then sit down 
upon the dais, Barda at one side, Rimmona on the other 
^".7 ^"^^ ^^ ^ 1'^^^ at his feet, her arms on his knees 

Rachel enters, smiling, and carrving a large tray of 
blooms and greens ready for distribution.) 

NAAMAN— And, surely, this must be our little maid, 
Rachel? 

RACHEL— It is I, good master, and I am hapi)v that 
thou hast returned, and hast not forgotten me. 

NAAMAN— It must be that too much joy is making my 
very vision to swim, Rachel, and thee with it. Surely 
thou art an angel of God, born to flv in :ne very Arma- 
ment of my gladness. Sit down with us, my daughter 
and listen while I tell my story. 

(Rachel sits down near Rifka, who takes and holds her 
hand lovingly.) 

RIFKA— We ])rayed for thee every day, dear father, 
Racnel taught us. 

NAAMAN— Ah, I felt it,— and I needed it. Now listen! 
^ L secured a letter from the King to Jehoram and, mak- 
ing my company ready, hurried away from Damascus. In 
due time we crossed the Jordan and ])ursued our way 
over the hills to Samaria. 

There I ])resented Ben-Hadad's letter to Jehoram, who, 
on reading it, rent his clothes in anger and horror ex- 



28 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

c'laijiiing,— "Am I God, to kill and to make alive, that this 
man doth send to me to recover a man from his leprosy? 
Mark hov»' he is seeking a quarrel against me." 

J^o we went away, chagrined. But this was not the 
end, for then I recalled the word Rachel had used— that 
she wished I were with the "prophet" which was in Sa- 
maria—and saw that a mistake was possible. 

While we tarried the v.hole city was stirred up over the 
matter and we learned fi'om the King that the prophet 
had sent a message to him saying: "Wherefore hast thou 
rent thy clothes. Let him come now to me and he shall 
know that there is a pi'ophet in Israel." 

On hearing this Elieze^- quickly put hoises to my char- 
iot and we drove in haste to the house of the man of 
God. Imagine my anger and disgust when, instead of 
coming our as T thought he would, standing before me 
and, calling upon the name of his God, striving his hand 
over the i>lace and recovering me of my leprosy, he sim- 
ply sent an ill-looking servant to the door who said; "Go, 
wash in Jordan seven times and thou shalt be clean," 
and then shut the door in my face. 

I was furious. I said "If I were unclean Abana and 
Pharpai- were better for bathing than all the waters of 
Israel," and I went away in a rage. 

But by and by EUezer quietly came near and persuaded 
me \vith this argument: If the prophet had bid thee do 
some great thing wouldst thou not have done it? How 
much I'ather. then, when he set thee so easy a task? 80, 
reluctantly, I went down and dipped myself seven times 
in Joi'dan Avhen, lo. according to the word of the prophet, 
suddenly 1 became clean. My flesh came again upon me, 
as the flesh of a little child, as it is this day. 

Look upon it! Look upon it! (shows his arm.) I could 
have wept for joy. 

So we hurried back to Samaria, driving furiously. As 
we nea]-ed the city the prophet appeared at his door. I 
gladly acknowledged the God of Israel to be the only 
true God and begged the propliet to accept a reward, but 
he refused. Then I remembei-ed Rachel and her reciuest, 
and asked to be allowed to take some earth from Israel 
for an altar to Jehovah, exi)laining that I should still, of 
necessity, be an attendant upon my King in his devotions 
in the temple of Rimmon, but that for myself, I should 
worship only Jehovah. 

The old man simi)ly answered: "Go in peace!" 

So we tui'ned homeward, happy. Later we sent back a 
Ijresent to some youths from Mt. Ephraim, wiio had come 
to visit the prophet, and then with all speed Ave hurried 
away, and here we are. 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IX DAMASCUS 29 

Truly the God of Israel is the only God and lioncc- « 
forth, RacJiel, thy God shall be my God. 

RIMMONA -(eagerly.) Onrs also, deai- father, for we 
love him with all our heart.s. Rachel has taught us that. 

NAAMAN— Then, indeed, the house of Naaman shall 
be the temple of Jehovah in Damascus, (to Barda) Was 
there not somev»here here an old. neglected altar of Rim- 
mo n? 

RIMMONA— Yea, father, we have been using it to hold 
ouv flowers. 

A'AAMAN— Let Rachel bring it here before me. 
I Rachel brings the taboret and places it in the center of 
the room.! 

RIFKA-AVhy, there's my little flower of hope! I put 
it there the very day father went away. And, see. These 
are mothers jewels! How came they here? 

BARDA — I laid them there awhile ago in the bitterness 
of my soul, an offering to Rimmon. 

NAAMA^s— What wouldst thou do with them now, 
Barda? There is no God in the house of Naaman save 
Jehovah. 

BARDA— (going to the taboret). Let me hang them 
upon the neck of Rachel and our two daughters, as a 
thank offering to the God of Israel, and a token of peni- 
tence for my unbelief. 

i Barda takes the jewels and bestows them upon the 
three happy girls.) 

ISAAMAX— Give me that little, withered flower, Rifka. I 
would keep it among my jewels. And now, Rachel, re- 
move all the old dust of sacrifice which remains u])on the 
altai" to]). 

(Rachel and the girls dust ofT the toj) of the taboi'ct. ) 

NAAMAN— Now call Eliezer to me. (Rachel calls. Elie- 
zer enters.; 

NAAMAN — Eliezer, procure a silver platter and bring in 
upon it a little of the burthen we fetched fi'om the land 
of Isi-ael. 

'Eliezer retires and soon reappears with earth in a 
dish.) 



30 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

NAAMAN— Give it to Rachel and let us see what she 
will do with it. It is a little gitt I brought thee, Rachel, 
from beyond Jordan. 

(Rachel takes the dish of earth from Eliezer. Looks up 
at Naaman,~then fastens her eyes upon iiie gift. Kisses 
it.) 

RACHEL— (Softly.) O precious, little earth! trodden by 
the feet of my father, and of my mother. Oh, how I love 
thee! Be thou here the blessing of Israel to us all. 

(She places the platter upon the top of the taboret, 
heaping the earth into a little mound.) 

RACHEL— Now Eliezei', bring fire and let us lay it 
upon this new altar. 

(Eliezer bi'ings fire, a bit of sponge on t> wire, moist with 
alcohol and lighted outside the room; Rachel lays it 
upon the top of the mound of earth, throws some in- 
cense upon it and. together she and Eliezer blow upon 
the flame, filling the room with smoke and perfume.) 

NAAMAN— (in the best humor, smiling and pointing at 
the pair.) Dost thou observe, Barda, how well these two 
build an altar together? And how fragrant the odor 
which seems to flow from their melted breath? 

Is it not a happy omen? There were times indeed, in 
our absence when I had grave anxiety for Eliezer. A 
curious sickness seemed to hang upon him, usually 
toward evening, and I feared that he would desert me 
and return hither, running, or that perhaps I should 
be compelled to take him back to the old prophet. But 
the climate of Damascus seems to have refreshed him and 
he has entirely recovered from his indisposition. 

Ah, possibly Rachel has beguiled him also of some 
dire malady! Well, there should be an altar to the 
God of Love in every home. What thinkest thou on that 
point, Eliezer? 

ELIEZER— Truly, my master! But, surely, first should 
come the home, (he grasps Rachel's hand,) and a new 
and happy one simply waits here upon tny good pleasure 
and permission. May we not receive it and have thy 
blessing on this joyous day? For I have taken Rachel 
captive, or, she has captured me, which is it Rachel? 

(In glad surprise all gather round the altar, looking 
at Naaman in expectation.) 

NAAMAN— Oh that we knew some of the w^ords of 
blessing Jeliovah has spoken of them that love him, and 
love each other, for our own seem far too slow and 
bashful. 



A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 31 

UACHEL— ^Smiling.) May this captive maiden prompt 
thee a little, dear master? 

NAAMAN— Do so, Raeliel, thou hast taken us all cap- 
tive! Speak, and we will repeat the sacred words, making 
them our own for thee and for Eliezer. 

RACHEL— Come then, Eliezer, stand beside me while 
these beloved prisoners repeat upon us Israel's ancient 
blessing. 

(Eliezer comes nearer and as they stand together, hand 
in hand, Rachel, with bowed head, softly recites the 
words of blessing, which the others repeat, sentence by 
sentence.) 

RACHEL— "The Lord bless thee and keep thee. (All 
repeat) 

"The Lord make his face shine upon thee and be 
gracious unto thee, (All repeat.) 

"The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee and give 
thee peace." (All repeat.) 

NAAMAN— And now let us kneel, in thanksgiving, 
while Rachel, like a holy priestess, speaks for us the 
praises of her God and our God. 

L\ll Kneel around the little altar.) 

RACHEL— But— pardon, dear master, may not thine 
own daughteis be thy priestesses? Listen to the sweet 
words I have taught them in the fulness of my hope and 
expectation of this very day. 

• Rimmona and Rifka rise and stand before the altar 
with clasped hands and uplifted eyes while they recite): 

RIMMONA— Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that 
is within me bless his holy name. 

RIFKA— Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all 
his benefits; 

RIMMONA— Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; 

RIFKA— Who healeth all thy diseases; 

RIMMONA— Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; 

RIFKA— Who crown eth thee with lovingkindness and 
tender mercies: 



32 A CAPTIVE MAIDEN IN DAMASCUS 

BOTH GIRLS— O that men would praise the Lord for 
His goodness and foi- His wonderful works to the chil- 
dren of men! 

(Then all rise, Avhile Rifka runs over to her father, 
with a small bit of parchment in her hand, saying) 

RIFKA — And here's a little one I have learned and 
written out for thee, dear father. Read it to us. 
t'Naaman takes the paper and slowly reads aloud.) 

NAAMAN— "Yea, though I walk through the valley 
of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for thou art 
with me, thy rod and thy stat! they comfort me." 

RIFKA— That's for today and tomorrow and all the 
days to come. 

BARDA— Ah, what a marvelous change has passed 
upon that Avoid "tomorrow". It gleams with pleasure 
unending now where, befoiT, it was ever full of cloudiness 
and shrinking. 

(Great noise and laughter outside.) 

NAAMAN— What mav be the cause of all this commo- 
tion? 

iHere, witliout any ]n'etense of ceremony, Chanina, 
Chesil, Zaeli. Abana. the two >Syrian women and the group 
of Court Dancers with their musicians enter noisily, all 
in festival costume. 

Great commotion: all talking at once; the musicians 
playing as for their lives. All express their heartiest 
congiatulations and good wishes. A space is cleared and 
the dancers perform one of their most beautiful figures. 

As if by accident the whole company surround the altar, 
which still smokes a little. No reference is made to the 
ceremony which had just preceded. Abana comes to the 
center and sings a cheerful song, all present joining 
in the chorus, forming as the whole group stand together 
a closing Tableau of Happiness. 



Curtain 



Another Play Which Will 



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A Children's Play in I ^ ^^g ^^3 g^g 5 
By JOHN REia. 

Author of "A Captive Maiden in Damascus" 

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Published by 

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